


Enthralled

by Dirge, LucyRed



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Just call this a pot roast bc you're going to starve or something idk, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Slow Burn, Thrall Rhys, Unhealthy Relationships, Vampire AU, Vampire Master Jack, Which is just p much a given with Handsome Jackass, much liberty taken with the rules of vampirism, sorta loosely based off of Plague Incs vampire scenario, very loosely, we're making it up as we go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2019-10-03 03:19:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17276105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dirge/pseuds/Dirge, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LucyRed/pseuds/LucyRed
Summary: In five years since Jack's arise as the new master vampire, he had sent the Templars scattering to the wind, had enslaved half of humanity, and had all the wealth and comfort he could ever want. Beautiful thralls attending to his every need, going out and procuring blood for him to drink from their veins, stealing or creating the most exotic and fashionable outfits, building him castles that rivaled those of the greediest kings and queens in history, in both size and lavish decorations.And Jack was bored.Rhys is just a thrall, but he's a thrall that has somehow retained his personality after the transformation process, and when Jack comes to visit the small castle that Rhys is stationed at, he finds that he's very quickly gotten the full attention of his master. He's not sure that he likes that.





	1. Disappointment

To say that Jack was the most powerful, successful master vampire that had ever existed was an understatement.

Every 150 years, a new master vampire rose from the ashes, radiating with energy and power unknown to mortals, only to typically die to the Templars within the first few decades.

Not Jack.

Jack awoke with his eyes glowing, his sharp teeth bared in a menacing grin, his skin pale and body radiating with powerful dark mists, and promptly took over half the world.

The Templars had never seen anything like him. New master vampires tended to lurk silently in the shadows, trying to plot and strategize their takeovers in stealth. A drained corpse in the river would eventually be discovered, and the small town would be swarmed, and the threat identified and exterminated.

Not Jack.

Seemingly overnight, the Templars were overwhelmed with alerts pouring in about a small city that had been all but decimated overnight. Half of its population had been killed and drained, and the other half turned to thralls - mind controlled, partial undead slaves to the master vampire that carried out his murderous will without hesitation. One small city turned into several, and then an entire country, within a week. The Templars sent out their agents but all of them were cut down. They all opted to take their own lives before allowing the new threat to enslave their minds.

Jack was something else. Jack was bold. Jack was violent. Jack was bloodthirsty in more than just the literal sense. He craved power and control and all the luxuries that life could offer, perhaps out of never having any of these things in his past, mortal life. It was impossible to say. Vampires never recalled their mortal years, as far as the Templars knew. It was what made them so monstrous.

 

Within a month the Templars had all but lost all of their agents, and they made a hard decision. They all abruptly withdrew and went silent. Their forts were abandoned, their agents names wiped from the ledgers and their presence...all but gone.

In a year, a fifth of the Earth's population was enthralled or dead. In five years, it was half.

In five years since Jack's arise as the new master vampire, he had sent the Templars scattering to the wind, had enslaved half of humanity, and had all the wealth and comfort he could ever want. Beautiful thralls attending to his every need, going out and procuring blood for him to drink from their veins, stealing or creating the most exotic and fashionable outfits, building him castles that rivaled those of the greediest kings and queens in history, in both size and lavish decorations.

And Jack was bored.

Yeah, sure, he had everything he ever wanted, barring the other half of the world. But it was hardly a challenge these days. Really he was just idling now. He was sure that at any given time, he could say the word and launch his next attack, and then the rest of the planet would be his. But he hesitated because of the thought of 'then what'?

Jack was surrounded on all sides at all times by thralls, all of whom would break their own necks if he ordered them to. Which he had. Several times. He had no shortage of thralls and it was funny for the first couple hundred times. But inevitably, the mindless, complete and utter obedience became...dull. There was no screaming, no fighting no defiance no laughable attempts at rebellion. The closest thing he had to fun anymore was when he requested a live human be brought to him. Then he could enjoy their screaming and thrashing for a bit before he either drank them dry or enthralled them or tortured them to death slowly. But the last time he'd done that, he'd noted that it hadn't been as fun as last time, so he didn't do that so much anymore either. It was like he was noticing he was building up a tolerance to a party drug and so he was abstaining as much as possible in order to not lose the high.

He was still haunted by the thought that, inevitably, he'd get bored of that too. Then he'd have no reason to delay his final takeover.

Jack sighed as he was driven down a dark and winding road in a storm towards one of his more humble castles in the countryside. Normally it was cities he tormented, but maybe being able to pick on the residents of a small village, make them scurry around like frantic ants while he slowly picked them off one by one, would bring him amusement for awhile.

 **_Send someone to fetch my bags._ **Jack sent the thought forward to the handful of thralls living in the smaller abode. He'd already told them days ago that he was coming, and to have a chamber ready for him. That was the convenient part about thralls - you could directly tell them what to do, right into their heads, with pinpoint accuracy from anywhere in the world, and it was a one way line. He could order someone a hundred thousand miles away to bring him takeout and it'd better still be warm, and they'd do it. Also only amusing the first hundred times though.

The car rolled to a stop and Jack exited the vehicle, stretching out his arms and cracking his neck and giving a bored sigh as he saw a thrall emerging. It was a young man, maybe late twenties, brown hair, pale skin...long legs. And...hm. Heterochromia? Oh and...only one arm.

Jack rolled his eyes so hard it hurt. Mindless idiots. They send the one armed guy to unpack his bags?! At least it'd be sort of amusing to watch.

He groaned as the thrall approached him instead of the boot of his car. "Ugh, yeah, hi, it's me, your lord and master. You're so grateful to be in my presence yadda whatever. No I don't want your probably nasty blood just get my bags, you useless dipshit."

The thrall’s mouth snapped closed.

Jack started walking into the castle.

"Well hi to you too. Jackass..."

And Jack froze in place.

 

* * *

 

Being a thrall was....alright?

Rhys couldn't really remember being anything else. That was sort of the deal when you had some of the master's blood marked across your wrist or face or wherever. You got poisoned, sort of died a little but not too much, and then woke up and didn't really know anything except that your job was now to do whatever was told to you by the voice in your head.

Considering the sorry look of the apartment Rhys had woken up in, he hadn't felt too bad about opening up his bedroom window and jumping out. Maybe he'd even felt a little giddy about it. This was pretty exciting after all.

Or at least it had been until it wasn't.

He'd headed for the nearest castle, which was a...pretty tiny one. It had maybe four floors? Five if you counted the roof. The perimeter of it wasn't very impressive. All in all, for a castle, Rhys figured it was probably the bare minimum. A large kitchen and dining hall, dozens of cramped, tiny rooms for the servants (thralls) and two massive bedrooms for the master (if he ever came to this bitty place) and for...well, whatever guest he might bring. There was a grand hall and a lounge but Rhys liked to call it the 'small hall' and 'the couch pouch'.

Not that these things ever got a laugh out of anyone. Just a bunch of dead, blank stares and a repeat of whatever order was being handed down to him.

Boring.

It wasn't that Rhys thought the place was ugly or beneath him or anything. It was definitely better than the stink hole he'd crawled out of when he'd woken up. But picturing the master living in this space for more than two days was laughable. The guy owns half the planet and doesn't even have a pool? It seemed more like a motel 6 when Rhys thought about the other castles the guy had to have. Rhys _hoped_ he had better places than this, at least. If you manage to enslave or destroy half of humanity in five years, you'd better have a damn good castle.

Rhys didn't doubt that he did of course. Rhys didn't doubt anything at all about the master's power or wealth or...anything really. He _heard_ that voice in his head, from time to time, when the entirety of the thralls were being addressed. He'd hold still and listen, head cocked slightly and brown and blue eyes glazing over a little. It sent shivers down his spine and bumps over his skin and made him feel like he needed to run laps on the ceiling or something.

If Rhys was the sort to admit to things, he would confess to himself that maybe he had a little bit of a private obsession with the guy. But that was hardly blameworthy. The master vampire _literally_ owned him. He'd given Rhys conditional immortality and strength and speed beyond anything a human could ever hope to achieve. It was Rhys's _job_ to obsess over him, basically. If you thought about it. So he wasn't being weird he was just being a regular thrall.

A regular thrall that was pacing back and forth down the 'small hall' restlessly for an entire day when he'd received the instruction from the master to prepare a room, because he was going to be _staying there_ for a few weeks.

Rhys's undead heart was pounding just at the thought. How many thralls got to so much as _glimpse_ the master? There were 3.5 _billion_ of them after all, and only one master. And for a few weeks? This was more than Rhys ever would have expected.

**_Send someone to fetch my bags._ **

Rhys jumped in place, looking around him. There were no other thralls in sight. A majority of them were out hunting, as they tended to do at this hour of the night. And Rhys was right in front of the door.

No one told him to be the one to go do the thing but...well he was right at the door so.

Rolling back his shoulders, Rhys pushed open the heavy wooden door (which would have been a struggle with one arm, if not for his inhuman strength) and strode out down the entrance path in as composed a manner as he could muster. He saw a tall, broad figure caped in surprisingly flashy yellows and blacks exit the car and stand to his full height, stretching and sighing boredly.

Taking a deep breath, Rhys approached him, aiming to give the proper introduction to the humble castle that he'd been rehearsing for maybe hours at this point.

He opened his mouth-

"Ugh, yeah, hi, it's me, your lord and master. You're so grateful to be in my presence yadda whatever. No I don't want your probably nasty blood just shut up and get my bags, you useless dipshit."

And Rhys was instantly crushed.

He hadn't assumed Jack would pay much attention to him - he was only one thrall out of billions, after all. Rhys didn't try and make himself think he was the most attractive or the strongest or the brightest out of them, either. But he'd thought...

Even just a silent nod or a few seconds of eye contact would have been enough. A 'thank you' or 'well done' would have been _more_ than enough for the rest of the thrall's indefinite lifetime. It was what Rhys had been expecting - all of the universal addresses Jack had given, the thoughts that went to all thrall's heads, his voice had been charming, smooth. His words had been encouraging or funny or inspiring.

Not this.

Rhys snapped his mouth shut.

He glared at Jack's turned back as the master vampire began strolling up the walk, bandaging his bruised heart with indignance and stalking towards the boot of the car. "Well hi to you too." He muttered, opening up the back of the vehicle. "Jackass..."

Rhys sighed silently at the multiple, heavy looking bags he saw there. This was definitely going to be more than one trip. He picked up one of the bags and thunked it down carelessly on the sidewalk, hoping he was wrinkling some shirts.

“ _What_ did you just say?”  Jack turned around slowly, watching the thrall petulantly chuck one of his suitcases onto the sidewalk.  His expression was somewhere between bewildered and pissed off.

The thrall flinched and looked up with an expression not unlike that of a child with its arm elbow deep in a cookie jar. He clearly hadn't meant to be heard. His mismatched eyes darted to the side for a second, trying to decide if he should apologize or if he should stand his ground.

He cleared his throat and narrowed his eyes. "I s...I said 'hi to you too'." He repeated, louder and clearer. "...and then I called you a jackass. B...because you are."

“I....is it possible you don’t know who I am?  Is that really a thing?” Rhys should have been able to feel Jack’s power in his very bones.  “I mean, I don’t actually remember making you. I usually produce uh.... things of higher quality,” he said, gesturing at Rhys’s lack of arm.  “So yeah. Let me just...”. A command comes through mentally for Rhys to slap himself in the face.

Rhys paused, jerking in place before his arm came up and his hand smacked across his face. "Ow!" He held his cheek, glaring at Jack and trying to keep his bottom lip from sticking out. "Really?!"

Jack broke out laughing, which eventually turned into teary eyed wheezing at the look on the thrall’s face.  “Haa.... okay yeah, you’re one of mine. And yes really, you should be thanking me I even cared enough to make you do that.  Get my shit and hurry up already. Best laugh I’ve had in centuries....”

Rhys clenched his teeth. "Oh, is th...is this the part where I'm supposed to get down on my knees and thank you for being so gracious as to make me hit myself? 'Ah, thank you, master, for being too lazy to even hit me your damn self! I'm so freaking honored!'" In spite of his words, though, Rhys slowly took a couple steps backwards throughout his small rant, visibly intimidated by the much stronger man. He was clutching one of Jack's suitcases between them, using it like a sort of barrier. His voice cracked once or twice but he tried to pretend like it hadn't. Jack was more than capable of killing Rhys in less than a thought - why the hell was Rhys doing this? He didn't know.

It had been amusing a moment before when Jack had assumed the thrall was just a little quirky.... but now?  Now he was pissed. “Oh? You think I’m lazy, huh?” There was no way a fucking _thrall_ should have the autonomy to think something like that.  Especially not in his presence. Jack was on him quick as lightning, the briefcase shield thunking into Rhys’s chest as he pinned him against the car.  “I think I’m energetic enough to snap your shitty little neck, kiddo! And yeah, in retrospect? You really should have thanked me for that slap, because I’m about to gift you with so much worse!”

Rhys gave a very undignified squeak, shrinking back and hugging the suitcase against himself. "W...w-w-wait no, no don't-... please don't kill me." He blurted, eyes wide and uppity attitude gone. "I shouldn't have said anything I'm sorry don't... don't kill me."

That was more like it.  Jack took a moment to relish the thrall’s terror.  It had been a long time since an underling had reacted with anything more than blind adoration.  What was different about this one? Grabbing him by the chin, he looked the one armed man over, turning his head and staring into his mismatched eyes.  .....just like Jack’s own. Odd. “How about this? Get my things like a good little slave and I won’t choke you to death.” He patted Rhys’s cheek and let go, turning around and walking back towards the quaint little castle.

Rhys flinched at the pat, swallowing and going back to glaring once Jack's back was turned. But this time he refrained from muttering anything and just silently went about his task, bringing in one bag at a time. If he was still at his human strength he definitely would have had to resort to dragging, but the change his body had undergone gave him just enough power to move every bag, one by one, into the small hall.

After that, he located a different thrall to bring everything to Jack's room. Rhys was pretty done with the master - that had been enough interaction to last him for more than a lifetime.

Jack had come here originally with low expectations, prepared to settle for the sub par entertainment of terrorizing some back woods villagers.  Unsurprisingly, the new puzzle of this strange thrall had easily captivated his attention instead. The kid was very obviously still under his power, but somehow a personality had survived the process.... enough to give him the will to snark at Jack and also to be terrified by his threats.  That sent a little thrill down the master vampire’s spine. Finally, something exciting! He felt reinvigorated as he stalked through the halls of the tiny castle, uncaring that the place wasn’t as lavish as his other travel abodes. It was the perfect setting for unraveling a juicy mystery....intimate....cozy.  Speaking of juicy, something had awoken his appetite as he found himself licking his fangs when he’d first entered the place. He was fairly sure he’d caught a whiff of something delicious.... Perhaps the kitchen staff were preparing something? Except if they were the smell should have lingered... at least near the kitchen or the dining hall.  He’d passed both and the scent was gone. Curious....

The aroma was familiar, but when Jack thought about it, he couldn't tie it to any particular food item. It wasn't a turkey or a ham or potatoes...but he'd had it before. Or something similar.

Disappointed that it was gone, he headed up to his room and found two thralls setting up his bags in the center of his room. They were unpacking his clothes and putting them into the dressers, setting up the bathroom with the fancy oils he'd brought, etc.

Rhys was not one of them.

Jack scowled at their blank faces, wondering where the hell his interesting new toy had gone off to.  He should have been helping them unpack. “The one armed guy- where is he?” He demanded of one of them, blocking the path back to the bathroom with his body.

The servant paused in place obediently. "I am not certain, master. Most likely in his quarters."

"Or in the treasure room again." The other suggested.

“The hell would he be doing in the vault? Where is it?”  He’d only briefly been to this castle before and even then only to make sure it was being built correctly.

"Thralls are allowed into the vault only to deposit their findings." One of them echoed one of Jack's own commands uselessly.

"Yeah, I _know_.  I made that rule, dumbass. He couldn't have found shit in the last five frickin minutes. Answer my question, before I pull your teeth out with a post hole digger!"

"The bottom level, master. Behind the wooden doors. I am sorry for displeasing you."

"Thaaank you."  Jack released his grip, patting the thrall on the cheek and leaving the room.  Time to take a peek at what the little sneak was up to... And if he wasn't there?  Well, he could at least look at what kind of stuff they'd picked up. Probably nothing impressive, but you never knew.

 

Jack was a man who was _good_ at announcing himself when he entered a room.  His footsteps could sound like the stomp of a giant's, voice proud and thunderous, outfit billowing behind him with no discernable breeze.  It was all an act of course. Being impressive was part of the whole master vampire thing. But there was another part to it- the part that made him a cunning hunter.  Jack made absolutely no sound as he made his way down to the bottom level of the castle, his form thin and whispery as a shadow. He wasn't _really_ hunting, but a strange brew of excitement was bubbling in his chest anyway.  Play stalking was suddenly fun again! The look on the kid's face when he caught him red-handed....

 

Going through the vault room while the master himself was here was beyond stupid.

If he got caught there was a definite death in store for him. A horrible one.

But Jack's announcement of his impending arrival had sent the thralls in this castle out in droves and they'd brought back huge bags of stuff. Rhys couldn't just sit in his room idly while Jack went through it all and tossed stuff around at the walls and potentially ruined perfectly good pieces of tech.

So here he was, on his knees, pawing through piles of treasure. He pushed pieces of ornate jewelry and stacks of money aside disinterestedly, only eyeing a fancy watch for a few seconds before shaking his head and telling himself no. He wouldn't grab anything extra for himself while Jack was here.

"Goddamnit, did they only rob jewelry stores?" Rhys complained to himself, huffing in annoyance and moving to a different pile. "I'll even take an alarm clock. Come _on_. Just a few circuits? Some wires? Anything?"

 

Jack slipped through the doors with ease and sure enough there was the thrall with mismatched eyes, going through _his_ treasure like a mouse through cheese.  It shouldn't be possible. Thralls had no desires left other than to serve him.  Except this one. Jack shuddered as he felt his well-manicured nails lengthen into claws.  He should be pissed. He'd ripped the guts out of thralls for _less_ .  But now that there was the possibility of a deliciously terrified reaction?  He was _thrilled_.  Wearing a manic grin that showed off his fangs, he pounced.  A swift kick to the kid's back had him sprawled on his belly with Jack pushing his face down into the treasure pile.

"You're kinda stupid, arentchya?  Weirdly ballsy for a thrall, I'll give you that.  But how much of a moron do you have to be to think you can steal shit right out from under my nose?"

Rhys _shrieked_ at the unexpected attack, flailing and trying in vain to push himself up or crawl out from underneath Jack but found it useless. Oh, no. He was so dead. He was so dead he was _so dead_ oh god. "I wasn't! I wasn't stealing! I wasn't! I swear! Ch-check my pockets I've got nothing!" Rhys found no alternative but to lie, finding it his only chance to survive. At least it was a partial truth. He hadn't stolen anything _yet_. This time. But Jack didn't need to know about the other times.

“What were you doing then, huh?  Playing pretend?” Jack sneered, dipping his hands into Rhys’s pockets obligingly.  A quick rummage turned up nothing but that only meant the little shit hadn’t gotten a chance to tuck anything away.  “How about we go check your room?” He suggests, hauling Rhys up by his hair.

Rhys yelped at the unpleasant tug, gripping Jack's wrist and trying to free himself, but it was no use. The master's hand was like iron. "Th-th-th-that's not necessary!" He gasped, eyes wide and boots scraping against the ground as they began heading upstairs. "It's super empty! N-nothing of interest in there! At all!"

“Now see, if you were a normal slave I might believe you.  But seeing as you seem to have enough guts left in you to call me a ‘jackass’— which okay, kind of funny because, you know, my name is Jack— I’m gonna go with my instincts here.”  He proceeded to drag him all the way upstairs to the servant’s quarters, pausing once they reached the hallway. “Which one’s yours, kiddo?” The words were laced with magic that compelled the listener to answer and be truthful.

Which was a good call on Jack's part because Rhys had been totally prepared to lie about which one was his. His arm shook as he was forced to raise it and point out the door that belonged to him. "Th...th-that...one....master..." It sounded like the words were pushed out from his gut, and he was left gasping after the effect had worn off. "Gh.."

Releasing his grip on the thrall’s hair in favor of dragging by the collar, Jack raised a foot and kicked open the indicated door hard enough to break it off its hinges.  He dumped Rhys just over the threshold, surveying the place before starting to go through potential hiding spots. It was.... weirdly personal. Not in the way of family photos or heirlooms but... the owner clearly had a personality left.  A hobby. Jack cast a critical glance at all the wires and tech junk, hunting for a sign of gold or jewels. “Frickin nerd shit...” he muttered, scattering some of it in his quest. He got to the laptop attached to a skeletal metal arm and raised a brow.  “Where the fuck did you get this?”

Rhys had gotten back to his feet and was huddled up in the doorway. Self preservation told him to run. Frantic levels of worry refused to let him abandon his project. "I....I've been building it from...spare pieces of tech that I've found.." Specifically found from the vault. In all fairness Rhys did attempt to go and find tech pieces on his own, but he felt guilty when all he could find was a struggling grad student's laptop or an old woman's tablet that was filled with photos of grandkids and shit.

Weak, maybe. But he'd seen no reason to steal when there was already stolen stuff just sitting in the basement.

Jack had a dangerous look in his eyes as he picked up the flimsy piece, turning it over in his big hands.  He could crush it with barely a twitch of muscle. “A vampire with a robot arm.... something about that is hilarious.”  Jack couldn’t seem to pinpoint what, his thoughts distracted by the reappearance of that delicious scent from earlier. It was _all over_ this room.  Nothing in here was edible though..... Except....  Jack dropped the arm without a care for its fragility, stalking back towards Rhys.  He hauled him up and took a long sniff of his neck. “Holy hell.... it’s _you_.”

"Oh god don't br...don't break that please..." Rhys stared in distress at the arm on the floor, looking up at Jack again and resisting the urge to take a step back. "Wh...wh-what's me?" He flinched sharply as he was grabbed, hand pressing against his thigh and tiny fangs clamping down on his bottom lip as his master put his face embarrassingly close to Rhys’s neck and...smelled him.

“That _smell_.”  Jack splayed a hand on his chest, pushing his back up against the wall.  He forced the thrall’s head to the side, roughly nipping a small wound into the skin.  His lips pressed to it briefly like a kiss, coming away red with Rhys’s blood. It tasted fucking incredible.

Rhys stiffened, squirming and giving a small 'ow' as his skin was broken just enough to make him bleed. He bit his lip, digging his fingers into the wall at the sensation of Jack's lips and tongue on his sensitive neck, as well as the... uncomfortably borderline sexual moan Jack gave at the taste. "U-uhm..."

“Fuck....”. It had been so long since Jack had tasted blood this _unique_.  Once a long time ago near the beginning of his rise to power he had tasted a thrall with blood so delicious it had pushed him into a feeding frenzy.  Of course the thrall hadn’t survived the ordeal and none had ever been even above average since. The return of such a treat was extremely welcome. Jack was on the kid again instantly, sinking his fangs deep into that pale skin.  Big hands held Rhys down as he started to struggle, a possessive growl bubbling in the master vampire’s throat. Nothing would stop him from taking this!

Rhys gave a very undignified scream when Jack actually properly bit into him and began drinking. Rhys knew that, as a thrall, getting his blood drunk was basically his top priority and purpose for existence, but _fuck_ he never imagined it would hurt so much! He pushed back against Jack as hard as he could, but the man seemed to be made of lead. He easily ignored Rhys's frantic attempts to free himself, and even more easily ignored Rhys's vocalized protests.

After a straight minute of Jack siphoning off of him, Rhys started to feel more than just a little dizzy. "H...hey..." Rhys managed to get his voice working, weakly papping at Jack's shoulder. "Hey I'm g...I'm gonna faint."

The struggles had only fueled Jack’s blood lust, but when those died down and only soft  desperate taps on his shoulder remained he finally realized he needed to stop. It took a considerable force of will power to pull himself out of the weakened vein, an exhale born of both frustration and pleasure passing his lips.  He let go of the thrall, wiping his face on his sleeve and quickly slotting the mask back into place. “Hoo... that was nice. Real tasty stuff you got there, juice box. Now about stealing from me...”

The thrall slumped forward hard against Jack, knees bending and a dizzy groan spilling from his pale lips. "Ohgod...gh... make th'room stop."

"Hey... C'mon... Cut it out.  I'm trying to interrogate you," Jack grumbled, trying to push the suddenly boneless thrall away.  He was forced to catch him again though when propping him up on the wall didn't work. "Jeeze... "  Dealing with thralls weak from blood loss wasn't usually a thing he bothered with. Either he drank them dry and left the body to be cleaned up by the others or laughed and waved as they stumbled off to who cares where.  Jack frowned and slapped this one's cheeks a few times. "You're not getting off this easy. Where's the money you took?" It really hadn't been his best idea to suddenly decide to drink from the guy in the middle of an investigation...

"Up yyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyer ass." The thrall snorted into Jack's shoulder as he flumped against the master vampire again. "Hahaha yeah."

Jack grit his teeth.  "Damnit. Alright you little shit...."  Wrapping an arm around his waist, he lifted the light as a feather thrall with pathetic ease, tossing him onto the room's grubby little bed.  He shoved a finger against Rhys's chest with a growl. "Lay here and shut the fuck up."

"Ow." Rhys whined and held his head in his hand, shutting his eyes. "Errgh...god you're sucha huge...jerk..." He sniffed a little, lowering his arm and glaring at Jack. "I got all...I was so friggin' excited for your visit an' then you just...god. You weren't even worth it."

Jack stared at him.  “What? Not _worth_ it?”  It has been so long since he’d heard anything but praise and adoration he no longer knew how to respond to the opposite.   “Are you kidding me? I rule half this goddamn planet! I own you! I’m handsome, sharp as a fucking tack, and easily the most powerful guy on Earth.  What the hell is there to be disappointed about?” He demanded.

"You're _mean_." Rhys said, voice practically a whine. "I got all dressed up an'...I had this welcome speech...I did my hair... an' you jus' told me to fuck off."

....Mean.   He was ‘mean.’  Of all the things he’d been called in his entire immortal life....  Jack put a hand on his forehead and let out an incredulous laugh, eyes sparkling with mirth. _Mean_!  “Welcome speech?  Oh my god, what was it? Come on, I gotta hear this!”

"No." Rhys pouted and rolled away. "Go 'way. You don't wanna hear my stupid voice anyway you _jerk_."

Jack felt his ire swiftly draining away.  It was impossible to stay mad at the guy when he was like this.  It would be like yelling at a dopey kitten. He grinned and ran a hand through Rhys’s hair.  “Gotta admit, the hair looks good, kiddo.”

"Don't touch it!" Rhys shrieked, trying to swat Jack's hand away and whining as he felt the damage. "Ngggh that took _twenty minutes_!"

“Haha!  You’re kind of a priss, ain’tchya?  How do you still have this much of a personality?”

"I'unno." Rhys mumbled. "Unlucky."

“You don’t consider keepin’ your mind lucky?”

"I'm surrounded by a bunch of dead-eyed losers who can't even bring in a...laptop or something every once in awhile...they just tell me to clean stuff or whatever sometimes. It's so fucking _boring_ here."

“Good point.  Maybe I should kill ya again and see if you come back like a proper dum-dum.”

"Y'won't."

"How do you figure?"

"If you haven't killed me already then y've got a reason." Rhys sniffed, fumbling to grab one of his thin pillows and hugging it to his chest. "So you're gonna keep me alive 'til you get what you want."

“Very intuitive.  I’m impressed, kid.  Let me tell you something though.”  Jack leaned in, poking Rhys in the nose.  “I _always_ get what I want.”

Rhys crinkled his nose. "Then what d'you want?"

“Right now I want your stupid ass to get some blood back.”

"Well that's gonna take awhile. 'less I get a drink m'self."

“Let’s fill you back up then my little blood bag~” Jack purred, snapping his fingers.  A mental command went out for a thrall to come up to the room.

"I dun feel like drinking." Rhys rolled onto his stomach, burying his face in a pillow. "Wanna sleep."

“Drink first and maybe I’ll let you rest, you little brat.”

Rhys glared over his shoulder. "M'names' Rhys."

A thrall had obediently appeared at the doorway, which Jack waved to come over.  He turned and blinked at his bratty charge when Rhys spoke again. “I didn’t give you that nickname.”

"'s not a nickname it's my _name_. My name is Rhys."

“No, you’re a thrall.”  Jack turns to the other thrall in the room waiting patiently.  “Hey you, what’s your name?”

“Anything you would like to call me, sir.”  

Jack crosses his arms and nods.  “See?”

Rhys's response to that was to stick out his tongue at Jack and make a _'pblt'_ noise.

“Will you drink already, you little shit?!”  Jack growled, shoving the other thrall at him. “Name.... ridiculous.  Thralls don’t remember that stuff.”

Rhys sat up with not a little grumbling, grabbing the thrall's wrist and biting several times at the skin until he was able to get a decent flow, and then began to drink.

Not at all the usual, bloody, gruesome mess that thralls usually made of their meals, considering the almost stubby length of their fangs.

Jack’s disappointment was practically palpable.  He was gunning for a little entertainment watching another thrall get ripped apart, but the way this one was drinking... it was almost _dainty_.   “Oh my god, you really are a goddamn princess!”

Rhys glared at him from the corner of his eye, continuing to slurp up the blood at his own pace and stubbornly refusing to act like he cared that Jack was mad at him.

After a few seconds, he decided to actually be even more of a brat, and started slowly licking instead of sucking, taking his sweet ass time.

Jack palmed his forehead with an exasperated sigh at that.  Loopy little turd was doing it on purpose now just to irritate him.  Normally he would be pissed, but for some reason he actually found it... kinda _cute_.  It was something in that defiant little face...  As long as he wasn’t disobeying an important order.  “Pfft, okay cupcake. Drink as slow as you want then with those baby fangs.”

Rhys's petulant expression turned angry and he directed his glare back towards the thrall's wrist, shoulders hunching up and a growl rumbling out from his throat as he went back to drinking normally. He wasn't cute!

Jack couldn’t help but smirk.  So easily manipulated... “Don’t think you’re getting out of a punishment for stealing my shit though.  I just want you lucid when I kick your stupid ass.”

Rhys finished up all he cared to drink with a loud _shlurp_ noise, giving the thrall a small push away from him. "I haven't stolen noth...anything!"

“Uh huh.  Gonna make me compel you to tell me?  It's not as fun that way, but I can.” Jack waved the other thrall off, uncaring about its condition after being fed from.  He grabbed Rhys by the foot, pulling off his shoe and holding it up. “Reeeeal fancy kicks for a thrall with no paycheck.”

"Hey!" Rhys kicked weakly at Jack, scrabbling at the bedsheets as he was dragged forward. "Leggo! My shoes' none of your business!"

“In case you haven’t noticed, you belong to me, dum-dum.  So yeah, it is my business. Are those fucking designer _socks_?!”

Rhys pouted even further. "They are _novelty_ and they look fuckin' amazing."

“You vain little _thief_ ~”. Jack pulled the sock off and tossed it in Rhys’s face.  He got up from the bed with a snort. “Pass out or whatever, I’ve got things to do.”

"'Whatever'." Rhys echoed in a mocking tone, dropping back onto the mattress limply and sighing at the ceiling. Yeah, passing out sounded pretty good...

  


Jack strode out into the hallway, stepping on the thrall Rhys had fed on who was still laying there weakly.  He was little more than a lumpy rug to the master vampire as he headed for his library. What could make a thrall retain personality and to some extent, a will of their own?

He had absolutely no idea.

That part was, admittedly, a bit frustrating. Jack didn't like not knowing. He knew he was a paranoid man, though he wasn't sure of the reason, and not knowing the answers to big questions like this were making him a bit unhappy. Especially since the unknown was living in the same castle as he was staying. But he was able to take just enough comfort in the fact that he still controlled the thrall.

How badly did he want answers? He was the only vampire, what with the previous master vampire being dead... If he wanted answers he was going to have to do...ugh... _work_ , to find them.

There _might_ be books on the subject, which was why he was headed to the library for a quick check.  It occurred to him halfway there that this wasn’t his main castle and whatever he had here was random and likely unorganized.  Scowling, he barked a mental command to nearby thralls to put his books in order and another to his servants back at the main castle to gather everything he had on the subject and bring it here.  There. Good enough. He’d deal with the actual work later.

In the meantime, while he waited for answers...well. There was still _plenty_ of fun to be had.


	2. Shifting Focus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The thrall and his master have a few more confrontations. Not all of them are as aggressive as they both hoped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW here we go

Sleep was something that Rhys rarely did out of necessity. Thralls theoretically didn't need sleep - just blood. But it only took a few days of this new life before Rhys preferred sleeping over constant feedings. And it only took a few weeks before he would sleep out of boredom sometimes and nothing else.

This, however, was one of the rare occasions where Rhys had fallen asleep because he desperately needed it.

He still felt a little light-headed when he woke up, groaning and rubbing his forehead. "What happened..." He muttered, squinting at the foot of his bed, and seeing his prototype arm lying on the ground. Rhys gave a little gasp and got up, stumbling a little before carefully picking up the endoskeleton as delicately as he would an infant, putting it back on his desk. "...oh. Right." He grimaced as he felt at his neck, one eye wincing up at the sharp sting it gave him when he ran his fingers over the bite mark. "Dammit..." He glanced over his shoulder, and then pulled back a panel of the wall and double-checked that some of his more...wanton, impulse thefts had gone undiscovered. It wasn't exactly a dragon's horde or anything. A couple silver and gold watches, a ring or two, those were the biggest offenders. The rest was clothing that was clearly something stolen or looted from a fancy store in a place far, far away from this little village area. In other words, something grabbed for the vault, that Rhys had clearly decided suited him best.

He shut the hidden panel, sighing to himself, and then picked out a new outfit for the day.

This time he chose something that wasn't quite as nice as the suit he'd donned for the master's arrival. That ended up getting handled roughly anyway. He picked out a more modest vest and simple dress shirt and dark slacks, taking a good five minutes to select a pair of socks for the day - not something that could immediately draw Jack's mockery, ideally. He settled on a musical note pattern over dark grey, so it wouldn't stand out.

Then he headed for the shower.

Technically, the thralls all shared one, shitty shower room. It provided enough cleanliness so that they wouldn't stink and offend Jack's nose if he were nearby, but Rhys detested that shower and refused to use it. So he used the shower in the guest bedroom.

Not the master one, of course. Not while Jack was here, anyway.

Rhys slipped stealthily down the hallway, keeping his eyes, ears, and nose open for any sign of the master or tattletale thralls as he stole up the stairs and towards the smaller set of grand doors on the opposite side of the hall as the master bedroom. He slipped in, locked the door behind him, and entered the bathroom.

Sighing quietly in relief, he smirked to himself , feeling victorious, and stripped down to take his shower.

 

-

 

Jack did not sleep.  Sleep was for the uninspired.  Even as a mortal, though he did not remember it, he’d always had too much manic energy to sleep all that much.  His main goal in coming here had been to terrorize the village folk, but at the moment he found that urge put on the back burner.  The new mystery thrall, it appeared, was good enough for now to satisfy his need to escape from the never ending boredom. Said thrall was currently down for the count so he had decided that night to busy himself with making sure his usual comforts were prepared while he waited for the books.

One of the pleasures still remaining in Jack’s immortal life was _music_ .  There was an endless amount of it and sometimes it was the only thing able to stir up his passion, _really_ get the blood pumping.  Hunting was boring (too easy), mindless violence had lost most of its charm, and sex.... well, like hunting, it wasn’t a challenge anymore.  So he turned to music when he wanted to be excited.

The fact that there wasn’t a single device capable of playing music in the castle nearly had him ripping off the heads of his entire thrall staff.  Hadn’t they stolen a single piece of tech?? A stereo? Lap top? A goddamn _radio_?  Yes sir, they said they had. All of those things, in fact.  Then where the fuck were they, Jack had questioned, his patience running thinner than ice in spring.  The thralls weren’t sure. All treasure was placed in the vault. They couldn’t comprehend not doing so or even removing things from the vault without an explicit order.

But there was someone here who _could_ ..... Someone with an awful lot of wires and servos and even a laptop.....  It dawned on Jack that the stolen items had been right in front of his face the whole time.  The kid had known he wouldn’t be expecting him to steal tech, especially if most of it was also disassembled and put into a _robot arm_.   

That little _shit_.....

He’d been thinking that phrase an awful lot lately and he hadn’t even been there a full two days yet.  Jack made his way back to the trouble maker’s room, ready to throw the bed out of the window if the thrall wasn’t up yet.  Surprisingly, he found the place empty. He knew he hadn’t ordered Rhys to do anything... then again, thralls sometimes wandered around a bit while waiting for commands.  This one was different though. He had an _agenda_.   Not a problem, Jack thought to himself.  It was better this way, in fact.

Having enacted the first part of his brilliant plan, Jack returned to the master bedroom only to hear something strange coming from the room across the hall. Something he hadn’t heard in person for a long, long time.

He heard _singing_ . And it was coming from the...guest bedroom?  He hadn’t brought any guests. There was only one other person in this castle with enough audacity left to use that shower.  Jack’s mouth stretched into a wide, unpleasant grin. Oh, this was _perfect_.

 

-

 

Rhys sighed and then groaned in relief when he stepped into the hot water, smiling and just standing there for a minute to get good and properly soaked. He so deserved this, after the shitty day that was yesterday. Well, what he _really_ deserved was a nice long bath in the _master_ bathroom. But Jack was busy occupying it with his dickishness and Rhys really only had time to get away with a fancy shower.

He poured out some of the special shampoo that smelled like the beach (yet another petty theft from the vault) onto his hand and lathered it into his hair, letting himself just enjoy the smells and sensation of water and cleanliness and forget about everything else.

As he let himself slip out of the present, he habitually began doing what he always did when he showered. He started singing. Rhys was definitely a vain person, but he wasn't out of line to think that he had a very nice voice. He had a pleasant tenor range and knowledge of a few songs that kept him entertained while scrubbing himself down in the shower.

He also had a voice that carried. Something that he didn't consider until he had the distinct feeling of being...watched. The thrall glanced over his shoulder to see a tall silhouette standing outside the frosted glass of the shower, and Rhys screamed.

“Hey kiddo.”  Fangs glinted from the silhouetted face.  A locked door meant next to nothing to the master vampire.  The fact Rhys had even bothered made Jack chuckle. “Nice scream by the way.  Didn’t think you could hit those notes.” He leaned against the counter, raising a brow at the smell (....beach?) and the pile of nice clothes on the sink.  So vain! It was hilarious except for the fact the thrall thought he could take what belonged to Jack. “Let’s see... what’s wrong with this picture? Hmmmm.  Oh yeah, this is the guest room shower and for some reason there’s an entitled little thrall in it! Get lost, pumpkin?”

Rhys nearly crouched in a modesty pose, but recovered himself before he could do so. He took a deep breath, narrowing his eyes and straightening his back. "Have you seen what the thrall showers look like? If I even _stepped_ in there I'd get covered in some sort of grime." His lower lip stuck out a bit. "And it's not like anyone is using this bathroom anyway."

“That’s because its reserved for _guests_ and I didn’t invite any.  I don’t care what the thrall shower looks like- the only problem with it right now is your naked ass isn’t in it!”  Jack crooked a finger, beckoning. “Get out here. Now.”

Rhys shifted his jaw, practically slapping the shower handle to turn it off before stepping out onto the fluffy bath mat. He was unable to keep the glare off of his face.

Jack put a hand to his chin, looking the thrall over as if judging him on some internal scale known only to the master vampire.  For his part, he was surprised he hadn’t had to use magic to coerce Rhys into coming out buck naked. “Must be hard to wash yourself with only one arm,” he remarked casually.  “Planning on making this thing waterproof?” The skeletal arm from the thrall’s room was brought out from behind Jack’s back and held carelessly dangling from a few fingers.

Rhys tilted his chin up as he underwent Jack's inspection, eyes narrowing as if silently daring Jack to try and pretend like there was anything he could find wrong with the sight. The one-armed remark had his eyes going even narrower, but when Jack pulled out the metal arm, his eyes went wide and he froze up. The thrall looked even more terrified than when Jack was threatening to break his neck.

The thrall's reaction was perfect.  Clearly he really cared a lot about his little project and that was exactly what Jack had been counting on.  "Thought I wouldn't figure it out huh? That's so cute. It's almost like you think I'm a complete idiot." The arm was tossed from one hand to the other, Jack's lips twisting up in a wicked grin as he pretended to have trouble keeping a grip on it.  "Which would be hilarious because I'm actually really damn smart. Smarter than _you_.  And since I caught you smoking in the bathroom, sugar- teacher is confiscating aaaall your little toys~"

Rhys's chest tightened, but when he sensed himself about to _apologize_ of all things, he stopped. His eyes narrowed and indignance took the place of guilt almost immediately. "Am I supposed to be sorry? Is that... Is that what this is? You're revealing that you figured it out, after more than a day, and now I'm supposed to beg for forgiveness? Is that it? Because... Because you know what? No."

And now the kid was putting on a brave face.  Adorable. “Beg? Nah. As pretty as you’d look on your knees right now, I have something else in mind.”

Rhys's face turned a little red, but he forced a smirk. "And what would that be?"

“You, little miss ballsy bandit, are going to have to earn all your crap back.  Including the other shit I found in your room.” Jack had gone through everything thoroughly, emptying out Rhys’s drawers and closet and even the hidden cache of nice watches.  “Oh yeah, these too,” he said, plucking the nice clothing Rhys had chosen from the sink and wading it all up into a wrinkled ball.

"Those were just pressed-!" Rhys threw his arm up into the air, clearly annoyed. "What the hell am I supposed to wear, then?!"

“No idea, cupcake!  I’m sure you’ll figure something out,” Jack laughed, heading for the door.

"... Yeah. I will." Rhys snatched a towel off the rack and began drying his hair. He could feel his blood boiling as he thought of all the horrible things he wanted to do for revenge. But the problem was that he was the only thrall capable of having an agenda of revenge, and Jack had his arm... If he wanted it back then he had no choice but to play along.

Rhys stormed out of the bathroom, muttering to himself and keeping the towel wrapped around his waist. He shoved a thrall out of the way and rummaged through his closet, grimacing in disdain at the plain, slightly stained and heavily worn down clothing the mindless slave's wardrobe contained.

"This is just sad." Rhys muttered, getting dressed anyway and trying not to inhale the awful smell the grungy attire carried with it. First things first, he was going shopping.

Rhys returned to his bedroom, actually giving a loud growl at the state of his things. He started restoring order, banging drawers shut and slamming his closet closed as he picked up scattered papers and began rearranging them.

Jack's visit couldn't be over with soon enough.

 

-

 

That had been an interesting encounter. It definitely wasn't disappointing. The thrall had managed to surprise him but that only made him more interesting.

Jack hummed to himself as he tossed the fancy clothes (which had been adjusted for a one armed wearer, and therefore were personally useless to Jack) on the foot of his bed, rubbing his hands together and grinning. He paced back and forth to himself as he planned out future 'activities' that he could inflict on his slave.

The most delightful and hilarious thing about this thrall so far was its pride. Clearly it had built itself up an ego of sorts, _somehow_ , and thus thought itself above menial tasks. Naturally, Jack was eager to inflict said tasks upon the thrall to gauge its reaction. Would it pout? Throw a tantrum? Cry? Beg? Or would it just buckle down and meekly accept its fate? Jack had no idea, but he was eager to find out.

He set out for the thrall's room, planning on subjecting it to perhaps the first chore of its undead life, only to find it missing. _Again_.

Jack growled.

 **_Where the hell is the one-armed brat?_ ** He demanded, sending the question out to every thrall in the area. It wasn't like they could directly answer him, but they could come find him and tell him if they knew.

And/or it might get the little shit to return to Jack himself, since he would also hear the question.

Unfortunately, the first news Jack got was that the thrall had 'gone out', and he got nothing more specific than that.

"'Gone out'." Jack echoed in a mocking tone, snapping the messenger thrall's neck with a thoughtless motion before turning and stalking away, growling to himself. Other thralls passed by him to clean up the body as Jack considered what to do. Yes, he could easily order the brat to return - by force. It'd been established that it was still under Jack's control. But no. That would be too obvious and way, _way_ too easy.

No. Clearly it had gone out to go get itself some new clothes, the vain little thing. So Jack would let him. And when he returned, Jack would rip its newfound treasures to pieces in front of it. Then he'd send it to its room or something.

That would teach it.

 

-

 

There were two main reasons why Rhys hated going out and fetching things for himself, by himself.

  1. The trip into the city, the part where the _good_ stuff was, took _forever_. It was three hours each way, and required jumping from bus to train to bus again, and it was annoying.
  2. Since he was by himself, and would be quickly overwhelmed if it became obvious that he was a thrall, he had to get things that he couldn't afford by using a thrall trait that was lost on most of the mindless minions. And that was seduction.



If asked, Rhys would claim that he didn't really know why he disliked it so much. It wasn't as though he was awkward about it (in his own mind, at least), and most humans couldn't even resist a thrall's charm, so it wasn't all that risky either. The truth was that Rhys was a little conflicted about the fact that he would never know whether or not he was actually charming, or remotely charismatic. Rhys could purr at a human that they looked like a pile of shit, and the human would still swoon.

Mingling with humans outside of gathering resources was a big, big no-no. And it's not like Rhys could really try and seduce a fellow thrall. He'd have just as much luck gyrating at a corn field.

But since he refused to think about it or dwell on it, Rhys considered going out to the city an uncomfortable inconvenience and not a dreadful reminder of how alone he was.

He sighed at the window of the bus as he returned back in the direction of home, outfitted in a new casual suit that was tailored specifically to his measurements and to accommodate his missing arm. And of course, it hadn't cost him a penny. 'On the house' the tailor had blustered, all the while touching Rhys a little more than necessary while measuring him.

Rhys bounced his leg a little as the bus got nearer to his stop, the bag resting in his lap bouncing with it. The contents had been a last minute stop, and done mostly in the interest of self preservation. After all, he'd heard the angry demand of 'Where the hell is the one-armed brat?' along with every other thrall in the city. If he came back empty handed he probably would lose his 'having head attached to body' privileges.

And the master thought that _Rhys_ was a spoiled brat.

The thrall rolled his eyes, hoping off at the remote bus stop and beginning the quick sprint home once the vehicle was out of sight. He deftly avoided any brambles or sappy trees, devastated at the thought of mussing up his new outfit. Luckily he was well practiced at avoiding getting dirty, and managed to make it back home without a scratch on his shiny buttons or the slightest smear on the silky fabric.

Briefly he considered climbing through a window, but decided he wasn't going to do something that so obviously implied that he was guilty. So he walked through the front door.

As soon as he’d gotten two or three feet inside, a hand grasped his shoulder from behind, fingers digging into the fabric of his new suit.  “Welcome back, pumpkin!” Jack’s voice hissed in his ear. There was a decidedly nasty note to his faux cheerful tone.

Rhys's shoulders went up, and he'd have jumped if not for the heavy hand keeping him on the floor. He forgot his uppity attitude all of a sudden, and now could only remember how very, very nervous his master made him when he was angry.

 _'Say something, he'll think you're ignoring him.'_ The thrall’s thoughts implored.

"...h...h-hey." Rhys stammered out.

Jack circled him slowly, relishing the way the thrall’s audacity crumbled at the slightest hint of aggression.  “Went out on a little trip, huh? That’s funny, I can’t seem to remember giving you an order to do that.”

Rhys struggled to pick up the pieces of his confidence, scrabbling them back together in the form of something that might vaguely resemble nerve. "Thralls go out all the time without... Without being directly ordered to. It's part of our jobs."

That got a short, barking laugh out of Jack.  “Yeah, to get me nice shit for the vault or to feed.  Not to make an appointment with a freaking tailor.” He grabbed the thrall roughly by the front of his shirt, nails poised to shred the silky garment.

"I got you a thing!" Rhys yelped, voice climbing to an embarrassingly high pitch as he held up the bag between them.

Jack blinked, caught off guard by the sudden offering. His brows furrowed as he took the bag with his free hand, grip slackening a little on the shirt but not yet releasing.  “A thing,” he repeated, sounding incredulous.

Rhys held perfectly still, greatly distressed by the idea of getting his new suit torn. "Y-yeah. Open it." He'd gone through the trouble of getting it gift wrapped and everything so Jack might as well open it.

Curiosity winning over his anger for the moment, Jack finally let go of the thrall in order to rummage in the bag.  Inside was a small box wrapped with a silver ribbon. A....a gift? Technically everything brought to him by a thrall was a ‘gift’- more like tribute really- but it was never _wrapped_.   “What, is it my birthday?” he snorted, more in amusement than disdain.  He no longer remembered when his mortal birthday was after all…

Rhys let out a shaky sigh of relief when Jack seemed appeased, or at least distracted. "Uhm, is it? Unless you're referring to uh... Your emergence as the master vampire in which case n... No. It's not."

“Rhetorical question,” Jack muttered, rolling his eyes.  His emergence date he knew quite well. Newly awakened and starving, not yet knowing what his place in the world was yet.  (He would very quickly learn that ‘on top’ was the answer.) The box was openable without disturbing the ribbon so he plucked off the top and looked inside.

Lying on the interior velvet padding was a black and yellow MP3 player, with an attached pair of earphones lying neatly curled up beside it.

Rhys was nervously brushing out the wrinkles Jack had put in his new shirt. "... It's got ten thousand songs on it. Top thousand hits from every year in the past decade."

Jack’s eyebrows rose, a snarky comment dying on his lips.  He had no idea what he’d been expecting, but it definitely wasn’t this.  The thrall must have heard him complaining about music- which he was bereft of in the first place because of him... Was this an attempt to apologize?  In his favorite colors too... Not that they were hard to guess of course. He wore black and yellow all the time, bought cars in those colors, decorated his castles- hell his bedroom set here was even black and yellow.  Still... thralls weren’t usually that thoughtful. Not usually that smart, he corrected himself before he assigned anything sappy to the situation. “Huh...”. Digging the headphones out, he stuck one in his ear and plugged it into the device.   He selected a random song, squinting as ‘Shake it Off’ started playing, staying utterly silent.

Rhys drummed his fingers against his own chest, blinking in surprise when he realized that he was actually _nervous_. Not nervous as in for his own safety, but...he wanted Jack to like the gift? Not just accept it as enough of a reason to not dismantle Rhys, but to actually appreciate it. To tell Rhys ‘wow good job’. Or something like that.

This left the thrall reeling a bit. Not once before in his undead _life_ had he given a damn about anyone appreciating what he did, or whether or not his actions were thought of as good. He’d been surrounded by mindless thralls or clueless humans constantly, and knew for a fact that he was better than them. The only person whose opinion mattered in the slightest had been the Master, someone that Rhys hadn’t ever imagined he’d interact with, let alone be facing.

Now all of a sudden, he had this... _need_ to do good. To impress this guy, even if he was an asshole. It made his stomach churn and his partially dead heart thud painfully hard against his chest.

Biting down harder on his lip, Rhys’s eyes darted back and forth across Jack’s face, waiting anxiously to see what his master would have to say, if anything at all.

Once again, Jack found it hard to keep a hold of his anger.  Apparently this thrall had a way of doing that to him... The sound quality on the mp3 player was good, even to his supernatural senses, which meant it wasn't something cheap Rhys had just happened to grab.  He'd picked it out. Jack rocked on his heels, wishing he could keep an annoyed look on his face. He really shouldn't be this pleased over a gift from a thrall... The stupid song he was listening to wasn't helping.  Way too damn catchy.

Redoubling his efforts to be mad, Jack forced himself to focus on the thrall's new clothing.  The tailor had really outdone themselves admittedly. The outfit hugged every curve on the leggy kid's body in all the right ways.  Not really Jack's style- too much blue- but it complemented Rhys's complexion nicely. Okay, so the thrall looked good. Really good.  But the real reason he wasn't pissed off about the outfit was because it hadn't been stolen from his vault. Let the kid have his fancy pants clothing- as long as he did the work for it himself.  That and something about a thrall having opinions about its clothing tickled Jack pink.

He still wasn't off the hook for stealing, but Jack suddenly found himself in the mood to pardon the leaving thing without being ordered.  He grinned, flipping off the player and tugging the ear bud out. "I like it. At least one thrall around here knows good shit when they see it."  Jack slipped the device into his breast pocket, earbuds dangling from it like a watch chain. "Oh, and wear that outfit tonight, all right? Looks good."

For the first time since they had encountered each other, Rhys actually _smiled_ at Jack. Not just smiled while in the general vicinity of him, but smiling _at_ him. Not in a smug way either. In a vaguely excited way. Like a puppy wagging its tail. He blinked at the order regarding his outfit, glancing down at himself and then back up at Jack. "...yeah, sure. I mean I don't have anything...else. Uh, tonight? What...what's happening tonight?"

It turned out Jack wasn't ready for an honest smile, especially not in reaction to his praise.  He was entirely too used to mindless minions whose blank stares changed very little regardless of what he said or did them.  He turned away and cleared his throat, affecting a veneer of nonchalance. "You're serving dinner, kiddo."

"...dinner?" Rhys blinked again, taking a few seconds to consider this. "...uhm. Cooking it or just serving?" He asked, following after Jack as the master vampire began walking away, probably intending on spending some quality time with his new gadget. "Because I can't...cook? I don't think I ever did. I mean I can try? If. If you want me to. But it probably won't, uh...be good."

His books ought to have been brought in and organized by now- did he feel like flipping through them?  Honestly, maybe he’d just kick back and browse some of these songs instead.... Jack stopped when he realized the kid was still following him, brain finally catching up with the one-sided conversation.  “What? No. I have personal chefs for that. All you have to do is look nice and balance a plate. Think you can handle that?”

Rhys considered his arm, and its singular-ness. He bit his lip, stubby fang poking out over the pale pink flesh as his brow furrowed. "...yeah. Yeah I can handle that."

Oh no.... That _face_.  Jack felt something stir in his chest that usually only ever happened when he was terrorizing someone. This thrall’s mercurial moods were really throwing him for a loop.  Now he was acting like some kind of eager little puppy following his master around. “Great. Be ready at six.” He made a shooing motion.

"...oh." Rhys stopped moving, seemingly only now realizing that he'd been following at Jack's heels. He cleared his throat, folding his arm behind his back and abruptly walking again, going around Jack as if he'd just happened to be heading that way and hadn't actually been following, even though this corridor only led to one place and that was the roof, where Rhys had no business being.

Not that he wasn't allowed. There was just nothing really to do up there, and also by the sound of it, it had started raining. "Right. Six. I'll be ready."

Jack gave him a funny look, shook his head, and kept going towards his study.

 

-

 

Rhys had never served dinner before.

He'd never really properly 'served' anyone or anything at all, really, if he was being honest. But Rhys was rarely honest with himself and so he was convinced he could do it.

It was only an hour until the appointed time that Jack had given him, which was just as well because without his arm prototype to work on, Rhys had nothing to do to entertain himself. This meant that he was left alone with his thoughts, which wasn't a good thing. Mostly because he was working himself up into an anxious fit, wondering why the hell he was suddenly feeling so eager to please?

 _Yes_ , Jack was his master but he was _also_ an asshole, which logically should have canceled out any desire to please the guy whatsoever. And yet here Rhys was, standing in front of a mirror and fixing his hair and suit to look as nice as possible for his upcoming task.

"It's just to get my stuff back." Rhys muttered, smoothing out a microscopic wrinkle in his collar. "I do a good job, I get my stuff back. That's all. " He nodded to himself, exhaled, and then turned on his heel and started marching towards the kitchen. Hopefully there was nothing too bulky on the menu today, or there might be...hazards.


	3. Losing Streak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhys screws up repeatedly

Fortunately for Rhys, despite the fact it was being served in an actual banquet hall, dinner was still only for one person and therefore did not consist of huge platters loaded down with food. Eating was a silly indulgence that Jack still found amusing enough to partake in. Since nutrition wasn’t really a thing for him anymore, his focus mainly was on how  _ fun  _ the food was to eat. He preferred things that required pulling apart or tearing off the bone- which really meant, in true 6-year-old fashion, any food that could be played with. Tonight was shrimp and duck with a side of tomato soup. Jack was well aware of the eye-rolling implications of that soup choice, but it was salty, warm, and the appropriate color and no thrall would dare to judge him for it.

Except there happened to be one thrall that  _ did  _ have a tendency to judge things when by all logic he should have lost the ability to judge anything. He didn't  _ voice  _ these opinions, but his wincing and grimacing as he watched Jack tear apart a duck like it was live prey failed to be anything but obvious.

Even worse, Rhys’s presence meant Jack had somebody to talk to. Which he did, most of the time with his mouth full. At first it was just comments on the cooking, but as he was pulling the shells off his shrimp the conversation eventually shifted to Rhys. “You are pulling some wicked faces,” Jack remarked, flicking a discarded carapace at him.

Rhys stepped back quickly before the stain-causing projectile could reach him, sighing in relief. "Well...yeah. Are you surprised...?"

“What? Don’t like shrimp?”

"..n........yeah. That's...that's it. I don't like shrimp."

“It’s not the same as a warm neck, but-“. Jack popped one into his mouth and chewed. “-s’got this... fleshy? Sorta texture? Plus you get to undress ‘em.” He peeled another and held it up. “See? Naked. That’s why they’re all pink. Embarrassed.”

Rhys rolled his eyes and sighed silently, tapping his foot and waiting for the next course to be ready so he could bring it out, and thus be one step closer to being done with this whole thing. He'd been (secretly) eager to spend more time around Jack, for some reason, but it just ended up being...underwhelming and gross. And boring as hell.

“Kind of like you in the shower,” Jack pressed on, determined to get a better reaction out of the thrall. He wiggled the shrimp around, singing nonsense in falsetto. “And here’s me when I catch you.” He grasped the tail and yanked, tearing the sad seafood apart. Apparently this cracked him up, as he was soon laughing so hard he pounded the table.

Rhys leaned his head back, looking more disturbed than anything else. "...you uh...didn't rip me apart though."

“Haha, nope. I was pretty merciful that time, huh?” Jack replied, leaning his cheek on his fist and taking a sip of wine. “You’re doing good so far though, I gotta admit. Maybe you were a waiter in your former life?” He teased.

Rhys raised an eyebrow. "For some weird reason, I really doubt it."

“Why? The arm? That a thing you were born with then?” Jack had been assuming a Templar had torn it off at some point. Now that he thought about it, this thrall pretty clearly hadn’t been in a fight in his life.

Rhys shrugged. "I was undead born with it anyway." Whether or not it had been a birth or accident thing in his human life, nobody could say.

“Ha, so you remember your ‘name’ but not that?”

"People don't put 'lost arm at birth' in their wallets, typically."

Jack actually broke up laughing at that. “That would be a helluva middle name! Hi, I’m Joyce ‘never had an arm’ Johnson! Can you imagine? Hilarious!” He shook his head and scooted the plate of bones and shrimp carcasses at Rhys. “Heh... alright, get rid of this crap and get me the soup.”

Rhys rolled his eyes and picked up the platter carefully, being careful not to accidentally tip bones onto the floor. "Yes sir." Ugh there was still the entree and dessert course after the soup... This evening was going to be so long.

Jack snorted, watching him go. The license thing should have been an obvious reason to remember one’s name. Except no other thrall had managed it so far. He really should stop putting it off and hit those books....

Rhys emerged a minute later holding a large platter with an almost comically small bowl of soup sitting in the center. Even with his thrall strength, Rhys was clearly having a bit of difficult balancing the gold-lined tray, and it wobbled a little as he carefully brought it towards Jack.

The master vampire smirked, slow clapping in sarcastic approval. “Wow, you made it. Good job, kiddo. You’ve finally mastered thrall basics 101.” He leaned back to allow Rhys to serve. “Speaking of that- I’m dying to know how you managed to steal that outfit after the tailor finished the alterations. Snap his neck? Drink him dry?”

Rhys's eyes narrowed, unappreciative of the mocking when he had been doing his best all evening. "I didn't kill-" Rhys's gaze shifted off of the platter, and his toe hit a slightly raised wedge in the floor. He stumbled forward, and the bowl of soup was served directly to Jack's lap.

Jack jumped out of his chair fast enough to send it flying, his expression equal parts pained and murderous. “You  _ idiot _ !” he snarled, smacking the tray out of Rhys’s hand. It bounced across the table and straight into the midsection of another thrall. “You can’t even get through a simple dinner without screwing up?! What the hell are you good for? You’re useless!” Flecks of spit flew from Jack’s fangs as he ranted, advancing on Rhys with a fist raised.

Rhys was frozen in place for a few seconds after tripping, only moving to flinch and put his hand over his mouth after Jack had smacked the tray from his hand. The thrall looked...mortified. All evening his expression had been one of apathy and boredom and faint annoyance, but now he was overcome with horror at his fuck up.

He looked up from the bowl on the floor into Jack's face, saw the raised fist, and immediately shut his eyes and tensed up, bracing himself for the hit but not trying to dodge or shield from it.

“Get outta my sight!” Jack’s knuckles made impact with Rhys’s jaw, hard enough to knock the poor thrall off his feet.

Rhys fell to the ground, catching himself just in time to keep his head from hitting the floor. He was shaking and he didn't know why as he pushed himself up to his knees. "I... I'm sorry." The thrall said, barely audible as he hadn't consciously spoken. Rhys felt overwhelmed with the sudden sense of  _ failure  _ that had just hit him - he'd never felt like a failure before.  _ Ever _ .

As soon as he was back on his feet, Rhys sprinted away to his cell of a bedroom, shutting and locking the door behind him.

Jack flexed his fingers with a disgusted hiss. At least the little dumbass had the sense to fear his wrath. “Clean this up,” he snapped at the thrall he’d hit earlier with the tray. Still seething, he made his way up to the master bedroom to peel off his ruined pants. Why was he bothering with this one-armed defective ass thrall again? In the past he would have gutted Rhys without a second thought! He didn’t need a screw up or a sass mouth when he had plenty of other obedient...mindless....boring thralls. Jack sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Right. Boredom. Being angry was at least a different emotion. Tugging on a new pair of pants, he flopped down on his ridiculously huge bed. The mp3 player in his pocket bounced against his chest, prompting him to fish it out and glare at it. Why did it seem like the kid only did well when Jack  _ didn’t  _ order him to do something?

 

-

 

Normally when Rhys got upset, he resorted to working on his robot arm in order to distract his brain. But with that project confiscated, he had no distractions on hand, and thus was left with no way to shift his focus away from his thoughts.

That wasn't good.

So far Rhys had spent his entire life (the undead portion, of course) without feeling much emotion other than the spectrum between self-satisfied and bored. The biggest spike he'd experienced was at the beginning, when it was all a rush of excitement - waking up to the call of the master, feeling power surging through his lanky body, running away from his crappy apartment and into the unknown. 

But days turned to weeks to months and then years of no direct word of the master. Rhys had no social contact outside of his rare trips to the cities...and he had grown numb. He was able to distract himself from that numbness by indulging in the luxuries here that had been meant for Jack, and by working on his side project for his arm. But it was still only a distraction.

Now, with his master's abrupt appearance at the castle, his unexpected and intense interest in Rhys...the self-absorbed thrall was suddenly scrambling to please the vampire, feeling like every bit of his value hung on the line.

And he'd just fucked it up.

Shutting his eyes, Rhys grabbed his pillow and  _ thunked  _ it over his face, groaning weakly into it. He'd tripped,  _ tripped _ ! And spilled hot soup all over Jack's lap. Yes, the vampire had been annoying at the time, but he'd actually been attempting to converse with Rhys, in spite of Rhys being just one thrall of billions, and Rhys hadn't even shown appreciation for that.

Shoulders slumping, Rhys rolled over onto his face and just laid there limply, arm and ridiculously long legs dangling over the bed that was an inch too short for him. This was the absolute worst day of his life...

 

-

 

Meanwhile, Jack was too worked up to lie in bed. He’d gotten up again after listening to a song or two (both of them too melancholy for his taste) and started down the stairs to the library. Self aware or not, he still expected his little brat of a thrall to be able to serve him. That was the point of a thrall. So he would give it another task tomorrow- this time something that couldn’t result in hot soup to the groin.

Upon entering the library he was pleased to see the books organized with a few even set aside for him next to a comfy chair. He still didn’t particularly feel like doing this... Searching the internet was vastly preferred over scouring dusty old tomes, but unfortunately this wasn’t the kind of information one could find anywhere else. Grumbling to himself, Jack snatched up a book from the pile and threw himself into the chair. He found his hand automatically reaching out for.... something... on the side table. Nothing was there of course- it was some kind of muscle memory left over from his previous life. He stared down at his empty hand, brows knitting. What did people reach for when picking up a book?

He tried pretending he had grabbed something and found himself wanting to place it on his nose. ....Glasses? Had he worn  _ reading glasses _ as a mortal? Jack let out a sharp bark of laughter. The concept of bad eyesight was as foreign to him as breathing underwater! Good riddance to that particular human weakness.

Snorting, he forced himself to actually pay attention to what he’d come here for, opening the book and starting to skim through it. One ear bud was still in, the volume set at a comfortably ignorable level. He found himself humming along a few times regardless to some of the more catchier choruses. It didn’t help that everything the book had to say so far about thralls was something he already knew.

He tossed that book halfway through, grabbing another and flipping through the chapters. This shit was just so  _ dry _ . Written by boring egotistical vampires or self righteous asshole templar. Jack groaned and sank lower in his seat.

Maybe  _ he  _ should write a book? About something interesting. Like a unicorn. Made of fricking  _ diamonds _ . Anything was better than this endless drivel about thralls. He threw the second book over his shoulder and yawned. At least dinner had been good. Until the soup. Which was a shame, because he really liked tomato soup. Mn.... perhaps he should have ordered Rhys to serve his own blood instead. Just, splay out on the table and offer his neck. Damn, that would have hit the spot. For how bad he was at being a servant, the kid at least had a few other things going for him. Jack was hungry again just thinking about the taste he’d stolen up in the thrall’s room that one time.

Did it really matter why Rhys retained a personality? He was still under Jack’s control and he felt confident he could drill some humility into that prissy little head. And have fun doing it. Just... no more soup.

 

-

 

As usual when Rhys was holed up in his room, it was thirst that inevitably forced him to emerge. He slunk down the stone steps, keeping to the shadows and hoping he would be able to avoid confrontation with his master. That entire incident had just been...so embarrassing. He knew he was going to have to deal with it sooner or later, but since the wound was still fresh, he preferred later.

He went into the kitchen, where hopefully Jack hadn't yet decided to poke around, and went for the mini fridge that he'd plugged in in the back of the pantry. He opened it up and grabbed one of the blood bags there, ignoring the kitchen staff on his way out. Lingering around downstairs meant it was more likely for him to run into Jack, so the safer thing to do would be to just get back upstairs.

He went through the lounge, and had just sunk a nubby fang in through the plastic of the bag when he spotted his master in the big chair next to the fire place. Rhys froze up, but then relaxed a little when he saw Jack was asleep, with an open book splayed out over his chest.

Squinting, Rhys inched closer carefully, tilting his head to get a better look at the title of the novel. He was curious as to what sort of things his master read. He kept his teeth imbedded in the bag (once these things were punctured, they could get messy if they weren't at least half drunk right away) as he tried to discern the overly fancy title text. It looked hand written...some kind of journal?

As if he could feel Rhys’s attention on him, Jack cracked open an eye- the blue one- before running a hand down his face and sitting up. The book fell into his lap which he stared at blearily for a second before tossing it onto the end table. “What the hell... Damn thing put me to sleep,” he mumbled. His gaze finally focused on Rhys and the baggie dangling from his mouth like a kid with A Capri Sun. “Where’d you get that?”

Rhys froze up again for a few seconds, eyes darting between Jack and the bag, before he stepped back and quickly slurped down enough of the blood so that he could pinch the puncture closed and respond. "Uhm I keep a.. Supply."

“...Are you serious? A supply? Kid, you’re killin’ me here!” Jack groaned, slapping his forehead. Every time he thought this thrall couldn’t get more pathetic he was instantly proven wrong. “Please tell me you at least go out and hunt for the stuff!” Jack already had a feeling what the answer would be.

Rhys narrowed his eyes. "I mean...yeah. Where else would I get it?"

“A hospital?”

"....no."

Jack looked relieved. “Thank god, you have  _ some  _ predator in you. Why bag it though? Don’t like leaving the castle?”

Rhys grimaced. "No, no I don't." In between the seduction, the time it took, and the ever present danger of getting caught and then beheaded and staked, it just wasn't a fun afternoon activity.

"Yet you spent an entire day out just for new clothes," Jack snorted, poking at a button on the thrall's outfit. Speaking of clothes, Rhys never did explain how he'd gotten them from the tailor once they were done. The guy would have laughed in his face and called the police if Rhys had threatened him- the kid looked practically harmless. So that left killing him and running or....actually paying for the outfit. Jack squinted at the thrall, standing up out of his chair. "You know, I seem to remember you saying something about not killing that tailor right before you tried to boil my all beef hotdog." His expression was accusatory. "So how'd you get the clothes off him, huh? If you used my money, you little thief, I'm gonna boil your frickin'  _ head _ !"

Rhys immediately took about four steps back when Jack's tone became more threatening, clutching his blood baggie and looking distressed when the master easily kept pace with him, matching him stride for stride, until Rhys was backed up against the nearest wall. "I-I didn't steal from you!" Again. "I j...I did the..." He huffed a little, not sure why he was so embarrassed to say it out loud. "...you know, the thing." He gestured at his eyes with three fingers, using the others to hold onto his snack.

"The what?" If this was another lame attempt to lie, Jack was not impressed.

Rhys huffed a breath, blowing a stray curl out of the way on his forehead. "I...used the whole...seduction.....thing...power.. Whatever."

That earned him an incredulous scoff. "E-excuse me? Did you just... did you just really try to tell me you- you seduced him?" Jack wheezed, caught off guard by how outlandishly stupid that claim sounded. "What did you do? Show him your ankle? Make puppy eyes?" He reached out and squeezed Rhys's cheeks like a doting old aunt. "I'm dying to hear the rest of this- considering it's probably the worst attempt to trick me in all of history. And I've had moron templars after my ass all my undead life!"

Rhys made an indignant noise and swatted Jack's hand away. "Not like that! I just did the...that seduction power that thralls have. It's like hypnosis? Except no other thrall uses it so it seems like a waste if you ask me..."

Both eyebrows raised, Jack put his hands on his hips, cocking his head. “Yeeeah, probably because that’s not actually a thing. Thralls have increased strength, dexterity, stamina, yadda yadda. The whole blood drinking stuff. But they definitely do not have hypno-seduction powers. That would be stupid,” he lectured, his tone implying Rhys was the slowest kid in class. “I mean, I know you think you’re hot stuff, pumpkin... but please.”

Rhys's eyes narrowed. "I'm not lying! That's the only way I ever get anything when I go out!" He snuck another sip of his blood real quick. "We already established I can't fight or intimidate - what else would I do?"

“Steal. Specifically my stuff. Because for some reason, you think you’re entitled to it. Never thought daddy would come home, did you?” Jack snatched the blood bag out of his hand, tossing and kicking it like a morbid hacky-sack. Blood splattered everywhere.

Rhys gave a sharp yelp, making a frantic grab for his food, and then whined when it was thrown everywhere. His shoulders slumped, arm hanging limply at his side as he stared in disbelief. "Why... Why would you do that...?"

“Because I can, you little leech! I was gonna let you keep those clothes, but now you can just add them to the pile of crap you’ve gotta earn back!” Jack growled.

“No!”

“.... _ What _ ?” Jack’s expression shot from angry to furious, eyes bright with malice and locked on their mis-matched counterparts.

Rhys balled up his fist. "I didn't steal from you to get this! I got it by myself and I  _ refuse  _ to be punished for something I didn't do!" His eyes narrowed, barely holding Jack's stare. "Compel me to tell the truth if you don't believe me!"

“You bet your ass I don’t!” If this kid thought he could bluff  _ Jack _ , he was dead wrong. “Go ahead then. Tell me exactly how you got those clothes from the tailor. The truth.” The command echoed in Rhys’s head, weaving through his bones.

Rhys shuddered, but there wasn't any reason for him to try and resist, so it wasn't painful. "I used my seduction power to get the suit for free."

“Seduction power- what fucking seduction power?!” Jack snarled, incensed because _ somehow _ the little brat was telling the truth! His hand shot to Rhys’s throat, nails digging into the pale flesh. “There is no such thing!” The master vampire’s lengthy pair of fangs were on full display now, mouth open in an angry grimace.

Rhys made an undignified peep, grabbing at Jack's hand and flailing his legs. "I'm n-not! Lying! Ghk!"

Jack held him like that, feeling his blood boil as he watched his thrall dangle helplessly in his grip. But no matter how fearsome he looked or how terrifying the threat of his hand crushing Rhys’s windpipe, there was not a single hint of dishonesty coming off the kid. Every single sense he possessed was telling him one thing.

That he was  _ wrong _ .

Jack did not like being wrong. Especially when he couldn’t figure out why. A flex of his arm sent Rhys to the ground hard enough to make him bounce. Jack’s foot was on his back in a flash, pinning him to the floor. Spilled blood from earlier began to seep into the thrall’s clothing. “Keep the fucking suit,” he hissed, watching red stains overtake the expensive fabric with petty satisfaction. “And clean up this goddamn mess.”

Rhys was shaking, which he wasn't proud of. He whined a little in his throat when he felt his chest hit the patch of blood on the ground, which he also wasn't proud of, but he did not have the courage to complain about it out loud. He nodded in understanding, keeping his head ducked so he wouldn't take any blows to the face.

He'd just wanted a damn drink…


	4. Side Quests

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Achievement Unlocked! 'Side-Jacked'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long e'rrybody. Lucy hella procrastinated on writing that long ass prose bit with Jack but HERE IT IS NOW

The pressure lifted from the thrall’s back and Jack gave Rhys no more than a parting sneer before leaving the hallway and heading upstairs. He tripped another thrall on the way up, listening to its bones crack as it impacted with the ground below. It brought him little relief from the anger roiling in his gut. Every time he thought he had a plan to deal with the brat thrall, the kid threw him another curve ball.

He stopped at a window overlooking the gardens out back and cranked it open, sticking his head out into the crisp, night air. A quick mental command had a thrall fetching him a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his room. He shooed it away as he lit one up, taking a drag and letting the smoke drift from between his teeth. He wasn’t sure why he smoked- it didn’t affect his body like a human’s anymore. No nicotine cravings, no calming effect. Perhaps he’d done it in his mortal life and thus it was just another left over muscle memory that comforted him. Maybe he just thought it looked cool. Either way, he indulged in it occasionally, especially when he was feeling agitated. Even Jack could admit he wasn’t the best at thinking when he was pissed off. He’d done some impulsive shit in the past out of anger. Shit that could have gotten him captured or killed by Templar. He felt no such threat from Rhys, but so far he’d made next to no progress with the thrall and it was starting to become maddening. He was smarter than that little shit. He was just... missing something. Had to be. 

Watching smoke drift out over the hedges, Jack thought about the stupid books he’d attempted to read earlier. All of them were garbage. So fine, how about doing some real research? Field work, so they called it. Not that he would be doing it himself. He flicked some ash from his cigarette and called up the nearest thrall. It appeared a few minutes later, asking what it could do for him.

Jack grimaced at its voice. What the hell- had this guy had his vocal cords abraded with sandpaper? Maybe he’d been a smoker too in his mortal life... Far worse than Jack if so. Like three packs a day bad. It wasn’t just the voice though- the guy was wearing clothing that was just ill fitting and kind of baggy. “Geez, you’re kinda dumpy aren’tchya?” Jack snorted, blowing out a cloud of smoke into the thrall’s face. It did not react- simply nodding and waiting for instructions. “Okay Dumpy, here’s what you can do for me. Follow the one armed thrall. Observe him at all times. Got it?”

The thrall opened his mouth to reply, but Jack grabbed his lips and kept them shut. “No talking. Just nod.”

The thrall nodded. “Good.” Jack let go, waving him away. There. A small fraction of his task had been dealt with. Now it was time to get back to relaxing and thinking about how great he was.

 

-

 

Rhys was up all night scrubbing the lounge, using every mix of cleaners he could think of to finally get the blood out. It wasn’t an easy task - cleaning wasn’t something that Rhys did on a regular basis. Or, honestly, ever. He was supposed to help keep the castle tidy, but he found that his chores were easily pushed onto any other random thrall. And when he had better things to do, why wouldn’t he? A robot arm wasn’t going to build itself. Neither were long hot baths going to take themselves or delicious cocktails going to drink themselves.

For once, though, Rhys regretted that he didn’t have a little bit more basic knowledge about this sort of menial task. At one point he accidentally bleached the carpet and moved a rug over it to hide it, too tired to do anything further about it. When he went back to the kitchen for another bag of blood to re-energize himself, he made the horrific discovery that his fridge had been smashed into a gory mess, and he was without his source.

He felt miserable enough to nearly cry by the time he got back to his bedroom and began removing his brand new and thoroughly ruined clothes. After a moment of staring at the thick, dark red stain on the lovely silk dress shirt, Rhys flopped into bed, throwing the suit on the floor and pulling the covers over his head. For the first time in forever he went to bed hungry, and he did not sleep well.

 

The worn out, hungry thrall didn't drag himself out of bed until late in the day, wandering out in his underwear. He went through his neighbors' closets, and managed to find an oversized t-shirt and sweatpants after searching four rooms.

By then it was about 2pm. Rhys slunk down to the kitchen and started up the coffee machine (one of the things that he had actually grabbed in his first raid with the other thralls), taking a seat at the bar counter and tiredly rubbing at his eyes.

Today was looking to be a long day.

A thrall entered the kitchen after him and promptly shuffled over and sat down next to him at the bar. Thralls in the kitchen weren’t a rare occurrence - they usually came in to clean or take stock of the food supply. But this one didn’t seem to be doing either. The fact that it was sitting was a little weird too- even when idle, thralls tended to just stand around like zombies waiting for a command. This one was just looking at him with a blank expression. 

It took Rhys a few minutes to notice him, but eventually the 'being watched' feeling caught up to him, and he squinted out of the corner of his eye. The weird behavior wasn't lost to Rhys, and he found himself unnerved. "......can I help you?" He asked snappishly.

The thrall shook its head to indicate the negative and continued to stare.

"...then what the hell are you staring at me for."

Again, it did not speak.

Rhys scrunched up his brow, looking the shabby thrall up and down. Though younger than Rhys when it was enthralled, the poor guy looked much more haggard. He’d clearly been through a lot, whether it was before or after undeath. "...did Jack tell you to do this."

This time it nodded.

"...did he tell you to shut up."

Another nod.

Rhys sighed tiredly, setting his coffee down and rubbing at his forehead. "I don't have the energy for this..." He tried to just ignore the watchdog thrall, but it turned out that silence while a mindless thrall was staring at you was worse than awkward conversation. "Did he send you to annoy me?"

The thrall shook its head. The wet ring left on the counter by Rhys's coffee mug was seeping into its sleeve. It seemed oblivious of this.

"Don't p-oh for god’s sake..." Rhys picked up the thrall's arm and moved it so it wasn't getting its already messed up clothes even dirtier. He sighed through his teeth. "He just sent you to stare at me then?"

Hands in its lap now, the thrall nodded yes, its shaggy brown hair falling into its eyes. In a movement that almost looked natural, it brushed its bangs out of its face as they were impeding its view of Rhys.

It was a simple motion, but it was so natural and... Not statue-like. Rhys's brow furrowed as he felt his irritation towards the thrall lessen significantly, and he sighed. "Alright, that's fine I guess. Not like you're hurting anything." He sniffed, and then wrinkled his nose. "Except my senses. Ugh. When's the last time you showered? Last week?"

The thrall raised three fingers in reply.

"...is..is that days?"

It shook its head.

"...oh god..." Rhys grimaced hard. "... Weeks...?"

A nod. Apparently Jack had neglected to order that the thralls of this castle were obligated to shower. Most of them did, but if this thrall had time and time again found that there was no room left for it in the shower room during the mandated cleaning time, it probably would have just left. And that was probably repeatedly the case for this one.

The dumpy thrall had barely nodded before Rhys had pushed himself out of his seat and taken hold of the little guy's arm, dragging him towards the showers. "No. No, no no no no no. That's not happening. You are not going to be in... In that state if you're going to be around me. C'mon, you're getting yourself showered."

The thrall seemed content to follow this order, allowing Rhys to pull it in the direction of the dingy, ground floor shower room. Seeing as how Jack had ordered the thrall to follow him, Rhys figured that he wasn’t going to be able to just tell it to shower and then wait outside for it. But he was in need of a shower himself, honestly, and it was hard to feel awkward around a mindless creature that had that sapience of a squash. 

It looked marginally better once it was clean,  though its hair was even more awkward now that it was damp, clinging to its neck and the sides of its face.  It was overly long and not well taken care of but at least it wasn’t greasy anymore. It waited patiently for Rhys to vacate the stall.

Rhys felt a bit better too by the time he was done soaping down, though it had been hard for himself to stand barefoot on this floor, and he was unable to keep himself from wishing for the hot, pressurized water of the master bathroom and all of his nice smelling soaps and shampoos.

Rhys turned off his shower and grabbed a towel, rubbing his hair dry and looking his thrall up and down. He decided it was acceptably clean, and then handed it a towel of its own. "Okay. Dry yourself off and then wrap that around your waist. We're going to go look through wardrobes to find you something to wear."

 

-

 

Seeing as how Jack was too frustrated at Rhys to play with him for awhile, but he was still bored out of his mind, he decided that he might as well head out and do what he came here to do in the first place: terrorize some villagers. He put on his most intimidating outfit, cloak included of course, and stalked out to the edges of the nearest small cluster of houses.

He played with them in all his favorite ways - knocking at windows and doors, letting them catch glimpses of him in the shadows, drawing them out of their houses and blocking the doors before they could run to safety. Laughing at them and giving leisurely chase as his victims ran, pleading for help from neighbors that were too terrified to open their doors or even windows.

Some of them even did his favorite things, like begging on their knees for mercy, offering to help him in catching the rest of their friends and neighbors if only he spared  _ them _ , some of them even trying to physically fight him.

Still the thrill only lasted for at most an hour. His sinister grin lost its enthusiasm and gradually changed to a frustrated grimace. Eventually he just grabbed one of the villagers that was still alive and bit into their neck, bored but nevertheless still hungry from all his playing.

His immediate reaction to the taste was to hiss and spit, snapping that person’s neck and picking up somebody else. But it was the same. After a few seconds of drinking he realized that it didn’t actually taste  _ bad _ , or at least any worse than blood normally did, it just didn’t taste as delicious as a meal he’d had recently.

More specifically, the blood he’d had from that bratty thrall.

Thinking of Rhys made Jack salivate and growl in frustration at the same time. He finished drinking his fill from the now very dead villager and threw them aside, his mood thoroughly soured now as he stalked off towards the woods. Could he even go hunting and have a good time anymore, or was that little shit just going to keep coming to mind?

Unfortunately, even Jack in all his irrationality, was forced to recognize that this was likely to be the case. As angry as he was at Rhys, the sapient thrall was the most interesting thing to happen to Jack in  _ years _ . If he wanted to completely get his mind off of him for even a little bit, he was going to have to find something  _ really  _ interesting in order to-

...oh. Well, that would do.

Jack raised his eyebrows and stopped stomping about the woods when a tall, imposing brick wall came into view. It only took a second of inspection for him to determine what this structure was. The powerful architecture, the cross emblem over the gigantic wooden door, the iron bars on every window...this was an abandoned Templar fortress.

He whistled, giving a grin and strolling up to the front door. To his own amusement, he knocked and called out “Helloooo?” to the empty insides, cackling for a good few seconds before sighing and smashing in the door. The nice thing about abandoned locations was that he didn’t require any invites, and could just stroll in. 

It burned his fist a little to punch off the iron lock, but he shook off the feeling as he walked in over the splinters of wood that now littered the main entrance. Jack hummed a little derisively at the interior decoration, wandering down the halls at random and easily breaking his way in through any locked doors. 

Truth be told, this wasn’t exactly an exciting discovery. Jack had gone on a month long frenzy where he just raided base after base once the Templars went AWOL. A lot of them had been set on fire by the Templar themselves, desperate to keep their technology and information out of Jack’s hands. 

Back then, Jack hadn’t actually cared too much about what practical things might have been in the forts. He’d been a lot younger, only a couple years into his reign as a master vampire, and delighted a lot more in just destroying the places for what they symbolized. It used to get him  _ deliriously  _ excited to watch his army of thralls just smash the places to dust.

So Jack’s walkthrough of one of the very few surviving fortresses was more of a hit of nostalgia than of thrill. He smirked a little to himself whenever he would see large painted portraits of important Templars, thinking about how several years ago he would have stolen it and painted mustaches and monocles on all of them before repurposing the precious things as fireplace fuel or maybe hanging them up in his trophy room if the mood had struck him.

Ah, it’d been so easy back then to amuse himself. Like a hyperactive child in a world made of glass. Nowadays everything was shattered to dust, and he was just trudging through the shards, looking for any pieces that were remotely big enough still to be able to smash.

...what a dumb, overly symbolic analogy. God, he was immortal and already getting fucking old and boring. Jack groaned loudly, barely able to muster up the desire to push open the last door. The multiple rows of computer screens and desks and not much else made him turn around immediately, but he had a moment of pause.

Yes, back in the day, Jack would have just smashed everything in here to bits. But back then he didn’t have a reason to care for whatever information might be stored in these machines, except to destroy it so it couldn’t be used against him. Now, though…

Through half an evening of flipping through old vampire tombs, Jack had been able to discern that most if not all vampires before him had been shit and boring at logging important data. But if Jack knew anything about Templars, it was that they were  _ obsessive  _ and boring about logging important data.

Maybe  _ they  _ had an answer to the question that was the existence of Rhys, the not-brain-dead thrall.

Slowly turning back on his heel, Jack strolled into the room and pressed the power button on the nearest machine. He had doubts, but there must have been some ridiculously efficient, emergency back up generator because the lights flickered on and the computer began to hum as it started up. While it booted up, Jack looked around the room and noted the walls lined with what looked like data storage devices, and the passing idea that maybe he’d find what he wanted here began evolving into a strong hope.

He sat down, and then gave an ugly scowl when he was greeted with a password screen. “Of fuckin’ course…” He muttered, tapping his fingers on the keyboard and then beginning to randomly guess. Old, pretentious latin phrases, names of Templars that he sort of remembered but could only guess at, spelling wise, ‘password1’...

Eventually the screen flashed with a warning about too many failed logins, and Jack cursed it viciously. Without consciously thinking about it, his hands began typing again, and after a series of presses, a new screen popped up on the side that he began inputting line after line of nonsensical words into. His brow furrowed in concentration, fingers moving rapidly and with purpose as he mumbled to himself, occasionally swearing and backspacing but persisting for half an hour in this venture.

After being in this trance for awhile, Jack suddenly blinked and sat back a bit, staring at the lines of code on the screen. “What the fuck…?” Had he typed that? He had, hadn’t he? He’d barely noticed himself doing it, it was so natural. Like when he put a cigarette in his mouth when he was stressed, or when he reached to the table next to him when sitting down to read…

...oh. Oh no. Oh  _ no _ ...this meant…

“...I was a fucking  _ nerd _ !” Jack hissed, smacking his hand over his face and leaning back with a long, loud groan. “Oh  _ no _ . Noooo...no no no no…” He whined, hugely distraught at this discovery. He’d been a fucking  _ programmer _ ?! Or a hacker or some shit...god that was so  _ embarrassing _ !

He took a few minutes to wallow in the misery of this discovery before peeking through his fingers at the screen again. His eyes scanned the lines of what seemed to him now like nonsense, and he sighed heavily, putting his hands back on the keyboard and squinting at the last line. Of course he’d snap out of it before actually finishing up...whatever he was doing. Jack stared hard at the prompt on the bottom of the screen, willing himself to stop focusing on his arms entirely. Slowly, his pinky lifted up and pressed ‘enter’.

The screen exploded with infinite more lines of bullshit, and then the machine’s desktop loaded and Jack couldn’t help but burst into self-congratulatory laughter. Okay so at least he’d been the useful kind of nerd. He’d even given himself administrator level access somehow, and found that he had access to every bit of data on the system.

Jack leaned back smugly, folding his arms behind his head and sending a mental command to nearby thralls to gather up every last data transfer device they could find and bring it to him. It was going to be another boat load of work, but with how well all this shit was organized, it was going to be a hell of a lot easier to sift through than vampire diaries that was for damn sure. Get a bunch of computers and an army of thralls, give them codewords to look for and narrow down his selection...Jack would have his answers in no time.

He pushed the wheeled chair back and spun a little in his seat, snickering at the ceiling. Today may have started out shitty, but his own amazingness had caused it to do a 180 degree turn and  _ boy  _ if that didn’t feel just great!

In the midst of Jack’s giddy celebration, he didn’t even notice the red light in the far corner of the room turning on with a soft beep. 

**Author's Note:**

> Dirge as Jack and LucyRed as Rhys
> 
> You can find Lucy on Tumblr at lucyredribbit and Twitter at lucyribbit  
> You know in case you want to show me any fanarts or anything >>


End file.
